Mighty Little Tales: MCU ficlets and drabbles
by paynesgrey
Summary: This is a collection of little ficlets and drabbles inspired by the Avengers and other MCU movies, with various genres and pairings. In progress.
1. Her Terms

AN: Written for the "foolish" and "the future" prompts at fanfic_bakeoff on Livejournal. Word Count Limit: 300. Pairing: Sif/Thor. Rated PG. 

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><p><span>Her Terms<span>

She could have waited for him. She could have pined for him on the sidelines in longing.

But she was not that kind of woman.

Sif wore dresses for court, but she'd always wish for cool metal and the fitted material that moved fluidly against her curves. For her, there was a time for raising goblets, and there was a time for raising swords.

She could tell Thor that she loved him, that she always had, even before Loki's treachery, and during long warm summers when they trained together as children. She'd die for him; Thor already knew this.

Sif was anything but a fool. She would not wait for Thor to notice her. He longed for the mortal woman, Jane, and perhaps Sif was grateful to Jane in a way, for changing him for the better. But Jane was Thor's past, and Sif believed that she was Thor's future.

And if she told him, it would be under Sif's terms. They were training, and they were both bloody and dirty. Their bodies were numb from aches that would pain them tomorrow, and they were too tired to notice where the sweat ended and the blood began. Thor wanted this; he wanted her to fight him, to make him forget his agony, his longing for Jane. He might never see her again, and he knew this like a dagger that could not be freed from his heart.

But here, on the battlefield, Thor belonged to Sif. He rolled onto his back, catching his breath. Sif moved, covering him. He looked at her, surprised, but too winded to deny her.

It was Sif's time to make her move. She pressed her sore lips to his, stealing his breath.

He knew, as if he'd always known, that Sif loved him, like this, forever.


	2. Confidant

AN: Written for the "foolish" prompt for fanfic_bakeoff on Livejournal. Pairing: Jane/Darcy. Rating: PG. Word Count Limit: 300. Post-Movie.

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><p><span>Confidant<span>

This is definitely not in the job description.

Darcy's just an intern - _a glorified gopher_, and after the things she's seen with Jane Foster (otherworldly gods and epic battles) she takes pride in the job. She feels _chosen_, and when Jane needs something, Darcy is ready to oblige.

She becomes Jane's confidant. Jane trusts Darcy with her secrets, cries on her shoulder, and tells her about her dreams.

"Am I foolish for waiting for him?" Jane cries to her one night. Too many nights of looking into the stars, with her research coming along at a snail's pace. Darcy can only offer a shoulder as Jane scoots next to her, fitting nicely into Darcy's arms.

Despite the woman teasing her that Darcy often annoys her, they've formed a bond - a kinship of sisters. Darcy isn't this close to her real family, and some nights, though she will never say, she yearns for Jane's company.

Night after night Jane falls asleep in Darcy's arms. She drags herself from her computer with convoluted, mind-numbing research and crashes in Darcy's bed. Darcy accepts her openly, and the two girls hold one another closely throughout the night. Sometimes, Jane wakes up to nightmares, with tears streaming down her cheeks, and Darcy rouses, dutifully kissing them away.

She doesn't expect Jane to take things further, to let her hands roam freely and urgently - yearning to fill a desperate need that may never be fulfilled. Darcy doesn't stop her, and she admits to herself that she truly wants this, that she'll fill this hole that Thor has left.

If Thor comes back someday, Darcy doesn't know what she'll do, even beyond her internship. She only knows that no matter what, she can't leave Jane, not as long as she needs her like this.


	3. Midpoint

AN: Written for the "foolish" prompt and the "future" bonus ingredient for fanfic_bakeoff on Livejournal. Pairing: Thor/Captain America. Rating: PG-13. Word Count: 300. 

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><p><span>Midpoint<span>

Every day Steve Rogers feels further removed from the world. It depresses him, somewhat, to be this far out of time, to be alive in the future when his loved ones have died.

Then, he befriends Thor and doesn't feel so alone.

Thor is easy to admire, even easy to love. They find similarities in one another, they bemoan about women and all their idiosyncrasies, and they find comfort in making pledges and promises kept just between them.

Steve blinks through a haze - not through alcohol, not at all, but through joy. He's can't remember the last time he's felt this happy, this accepted. Maybe when Bucky...

It's dark when he opens his eyes, and Thor is hovering over him, smiling and settling his body onto of his. His face looks like laughing.

Steve asks, "Are you sure?" He feels like a small man again; when Thor puts his hands on him, he feels even smaller. But it isn't bad. It reminds him of who he once was - _still is_, even under all the enhanced powers.

He hears Thor's answer when he feels his hair ghost over his skin. Thor's wet lips find his as his bristles tease across his mouth. Thor grinds into him, and Steve likes it, but he doesn't tell him he likes that Thor feels bigger than him. If he does, Thor will stop, chide his foolishness and tell him in long lengths, almost like poetry, on why Steve is better than all of them, why Steve is their natural leader.

He hears it every time, and as beautiful as it is, Steve doesn't want to talk tonight. He frames his hands around Thor's face and takes him in.

With him, Thor does not wield his Hammer tonight, but Steve really can't tell otherwise.


	4. Intrigue

AN: Written for the "translate" theme at fanfic_bakeoff on Livejournal. Word count: 300. Characters: the Black Widow (from the Avengers) and Loki. Rated PG.

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><p><span>Intrigue<span>

Of course, he notices her instantly. She quite obviously stands out from the rest of the Avengers, and though, it's hardly a surprise he does notice her – what with spying on his brother's comrades for months, Loki is intrigued by her, more than anyone else.

She is like a nimble cat among the brutish, testosterone-heavy men. She's cool and calm, and she brushes aside any male advances as if she were better, that she is even a goddess herself.

Perhaps in her mind she thinks she is.

Loki likes to watch her, with that bouncy red hair and the way her clothes mold perfectly around her body, hugging her as she jumps and twists through the air like an agile spider. He supposes its why she's named that way, and if she ever feels inclined to tell someone her back story, Loki will quickly bend his ear her way.

But she won't. She's far too clever and secretive, and he finds something about the way Natasha observes everyone to be very telling. A mysterious woman like that is only trouble, Loki thinks, but it's the kind of trouble he definitely cannot resist.

He loses himself sometimes, staring at her and delighting in her every move. It surprises him a little, to be this intrigued with a mortal. He can't quite translate his fascination with her, and he only hopes that his nature isn't going to be sullied by emotions, not like his brother Thor toward that insufferable Jane.

If anything, he sees the Black Widow as a living, moving art form. It's innocent enough to watch, he thinks. She doesn't see him in the shadows anyway.

But when she does, he only slips his mask a little, and as their eyes meet, Loki knows that intrigue suddenly becomes mutual.


	5. Relent

AN: Written for the "fight" theme at avengers100 on Livejournal. Darcy/Loki. Word Count: 100. Rated: PG. Avengers/Thor MCU.

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><p><span>Relent<span>

Her gaze followed the shine of his hair to his lips. Loki smirked, as quickly as she'd taken a breath.

_You can't be here, Darcy. Fury will fire you. Or worse._

She exhaled, her cheeks flushing as she met his endless green eyes.

Soon, she was walking toward him without volition. Bewitched, she came so close she could feel his breath - a harsh winter over her cheeks.

After blinking, her vision blurred. Immediately, she tried fighting the pinch around her heart and raking coldness against her bones.

Yet, her body and spirit succumbed, filling with nothing else but him.


	6. Something Different

AN: Written for the "laugh" prompt for the Summer Mini Challenge on Livejournal. Pairing: Natasha/Steve. Rated: PG.

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><p><span>Something <span>Different

His laughter was the first thing that drew her to him.

Of course, she knew he had other skills - skills that she'd already compiled as a list in her head that read both "strengths" and "weaknesses". Yet, his laughter did not get so coldly categorized as everything else. It was something that made Steve different than other men she'd observed.

(She'd spent a lifetime observing men, gauging them. It was one of her most highly defined skills. She'd seen the worst of them, and when it was easy - so easy - to use them to get what she wanted.)

His laughter, his manners, and the way he composed himself around her separated Steve from the usual crop of men. He was, of course, a man out of time, a curious human anomaly that Natasha couldn't pull away from.

He watched her evenly, with eyes that revered her with both equality and chivalry. She didn't think it was possible anymore, not for modern men anyway.

It made her curious. It jarred her, and made her rethink how she looked at most people: as simple cogs in a system where she effortlessly outscored them. The nothings of her daily life, the people who barely caused a flicker in her calculated, heavily-trained mind.

And perhaps she wouldn't have noticed him as significantly as she had until he approached her, until that nervous laughter became a soft symphony to her ears.

She nodded to him stiffly, yet she still probed him deeply with her eyes, looking for one small behavior to completely shatter her glowing analysis of him. He didn't disappoint her. Instead, he surprised her, as many people rarely do.

"Uh, I was wondering, if you're not busy tonight, if you could show me around the city," he stammered. Her brow knitted together as she could not believe the words from his mouth. He chuckled nervously, and she tilted her head.

"Captain Rogers, are you asking me out?" No one ever did that without knowing they could lose a limb from such audacity, yet Steve Rogers had an innocence that would be blind to such unspoken rules.

And normally, she would tersely refuse. Possibly threaten him to never try it again.

She didn't. She was slightly off her guard, sure, but the moment she'd regained her thoughts, she nodded. Curiosity quickly overruled her suspicious callous nature.

She admitted to being intrigued, and it was very hard for her to rein in the obvious allure she projected when she approached him. He spoke a few nervous words through an equally nervous laugh, and was about to tell her "to forget about it" and "sorry he bothered her" when she moved close and looked into his deep blue eyes. He stiffened, stunned and bemused more than anything.

"Fine. Pick me up at seven. I like Italian, Indian, or German food. Do not dress in uniform, and do not dress like a time traveler. Be on time," she said, and when he nodded once with his mouth gaped open, she felt a surge of satisfaction in leaving him speechless. She never lost her touch.

Perhaps Captain Rogers was not so different from men of this time after all.

She gave him an inviting smile before leaving, and she felt him watching her as she walked away.

It may be true that he was not so different from most men, she realized, but he certainly made her_feel_ differently, which was definitely a challenge that Natasha couldn't resist.


End file.
